


My Light in the Darkness

by Nekomata58919



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, M/M, Minor Violence, first Gobblepot fic, little bit of Jim/Leslie but nothing explicit, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-07 06:58:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5447375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekomata58919/pseuds/Nekomata58919
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Penguin's father, Tucker Cobblepot, comes to Gotham, what trouble will he bring with him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, potential readers! This is my first fanfic on AO3 and my first Gobblepot fanfic. I really tried to keep them all in character, so I hope it comes out that way. Concerning Penguin's dad, well, since he hasn't shown up yet this all speculation and stuff based on what I'd expect from the show and other things...  
> Anyway, I really hope you all like this story. Reviews would be very much appreciated as it will let me know if I should continue the story.

Chapter 1

                Sparkling white dots of snow fell leisurely from the pale gray sky, landing silently atop a police car. Jim, however, didn’t notice. He was too busy contemplating recent events; more specifically, what happened with Lee after he proposed.

                 “JIM! Get your head outta your ass and pay attention to the case!” Harvey’s annoyed voice broke through Jim’s thoughts and he looked over at his partner.

                 “Oh. Sorry,” Jim replied sheepishly. Harvey huffed.

                 “Look, you’ve been easily distracted ever since Lee rejected you. You need to get over it since, ya know, she didn’t break up with you. I mean, c’mon, Jimbo. You’re acting like she left you,” he complained. Jim sighed.

                 “I’m not upset that she said no,” he said, causing Harvey’s eyebrows to rise.

                 “Seriously?” he asked. Jim ran a hand over his face.

                 “That’s what the problem is. I’m not upset,” he explained, throwing up his hands. “I should be, but I’m not. Honestly I’m relieved.”

                 Harvey snorted.

                 “So you had just asked her because she said she was pregnant, then?” he inquired.

                 “I don’t know. Probably. Look, I don’t want to talk about it. We’ve got a murderer to catch,” Jim deflected. Harvey shrugged.

                 “Sure.”

 

* * *

 

 

                Jim followed Harvey into the police station, frowning deeply.

                “Lighten up, Jim. The guy offed himself so it means less for us to do,” Harvey said, removing his hat and settling at his desk.

                “Jim, I need to talk to you,” Barnes called over, looking stern as ever. Jim glanced at Harvey, who shook his head and shrugged, and made his way over to the captain.

                “What is it, sir?” asked Jim evenly. He’d been trying to be a bit less confrontational after what happened with Galavan and Penguin. Barnes gestured for Jim to follow him.

                “There’s someone I want you to talk to. I think it might be good for you,” he said. Jim’s lips thinned into a hard line.

                “Sir, I don’t need a therapist,” he protested. Barnes glanced back at him before opening the door to his office.

                “Good thing I didn’t get one, then,” he replied as Jim warily walked past him into the room.

                Standing by the window was a well-dressed gentleman with greying black hair. Upon hearing Jim and Barnes entering the room and closing the door, the man turned.

                “Jim, this is Tucker Cobblepot. Mr. Cobblepot, this is Jim Gordon,” Barnes introduced.

                Jim blinked. Had he heard right? He couldn’t have. No, Jim had definitely not heard right. In fact, he was quite sure this was a hallucination because he’d been hit by the murderer he and Harvey were after.

                “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gordon. Captain Barnes has told me a bit about you,” Mr. Cobblepot said, holding out his hand. Jim mentally shook himself from his daze. It was real alright.

                “Uh, yeah, nice to meet you as well,” Jim replied awkwardly, shaking Mr. Cobblepot’s hand. He glanced at Barnes, briefly giving him a look that made the captain momentarily wonder if he’d somehow grown a second head.

                “Great. I’ll leave you two to talk. Mr. Cobblepot, it’s good to have you working with us,” Barnes said, leaving the room. Jim really didn’t know what to think any more.

                “I’m guessing Captain Barnes didn’t tell you about my coming to work here,” Mr. Cobblepot said with a chuckle. Jim eyed the other man suspiciously.

                “No. He didn’t,” he replied tersely. Mr. Cobblepot, seemingly unaffected by Jim’s cold tone, moved to sit in one of the chairs. Jim sat as well, though his posture was tense.

                “Well, I’m sure he had his reasons,” Mr. Cobblepot said, dusting off his black suit jacket though it had already seemed clean. “I should explain, then. Captain Barnes contacted me a few months ago – I’ve been rather busy – about coming to work here. He said you and he share the same ideal of making Gotham a better place and that he thought I would be able to help in that regard.”

                Jim was starting to wonder if Barnes knew his relation to Penguin. Surely he knew right? But if he did, then why would he hire this guy?

                “I see,” he replied stolidly. Mr Cobblepot smiled again and Jim tried to ignore the fact that it very much resembled Oswald’s smiles.

                “Good. Well, Captain Barnes told me that you’ve been having trouble. Specifically that you are having trouble remaining on the right path. Mostly due to some shady connections. Is that correct?” Mr. Cobblepot asked. Jim grit his teeth.

                “I may know a couple of the criminals around Gotham, but they aren’t affecting my ability to do my job,” he said. Mr. Cobblepot held up his hands.

                “I meant no offence, Mr. Gordon. I’m merely trying to get to the bottom of why, exactly, I’m here. You seem like a decent enough detective to me,” he replied. Jim stood.

                “Good to know. Well, then, Mr. Cobblepot, I have cases to work on. Have a nice day,” he said, leaving the room before the other man could respond.

               Harvey looked up at Jim, about to ask what happened until he saw the expression on Jim’s face.

                “Harvey, lunch break. Now,” Jim snapped, storming past his partner’s desk. Harvey - never one to pass up a chance for food - pushed up from his chair, snatched his hat, and followed him out.

 

* * *

 

 

                Harvey paid for his hotdog and joined Jim on a near-by bench.

                “So, you wanna tell me what’s got your panties in a twist?” he asked. Jim’s frown hadn’t lessened one bit since they left.

                “Barnes wanted me to talk with someone in his office. You’ll never guess who it was,” he replied. Harvey groaned.

                “Jim, you know I don’t like guessing games. Just tell me,” he insisted. Jim leaned back against the bench and looked Harvey in the eye.

                “A man named Tucker Cobblepot,” he said. It took Harvey a second, but when it hit…

                “SHIT! No. No, really? Fuck! Tell me you’re joking with me Jim!” he exclaimed, shooting up from his seat in shock and irritation.

                “I wish I was, but I’m not,” Jim replied. Harvey let loose a few more curses before sitting back down.

                “Barnes called this guy in? Why? He’s gotta know he’s related to Penguin, right?” he asked. Jim shrugged.

                “I guess not. I don’t think he would have brought him in if he knew. Though how he couldn’t, I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. Harvey frowned.

                “This has to be trick. That little shit must have done something to get his dad in such a position. He wants to screw things up for us,” he snarled. Jim had thought about that possibility briefly, but something told him that wasn’t it.

                “C’mon, let’s go,” Harvey snapped, standing back up and walking towards the car. Jim got up and followed.

                “Go?” he asked, getting into the car with Harvey.

                “To pay that freak a visit, of course,” he replied, slamming the door behind him. Jim grimaced.

                “Harvey, I don’t think he has anything to do with it,” he said. Harvey gave him a look of incredulity.

                “You…You don’t think Penguin has anything to do with his dad showing up? Jim, I’m starting to think you have a few screws loose,” he grunted, pulling out of the parking space and into the road. Jim sighed.

                “It just doesn’t seem like something he’d do. Besides, I have a feeling if he was on such good terms with his father that he would have been around, you know?” he reasoned. Harvey shook his head.

                “Unless he didn’t want you to know he was around. Probably wanted you to sympathize with him or some shit,” he retorted. Jim frowned but didn’t further the conversation.

 

                Soon enough, due to Harvey’s speeding, they arrived at Penguin’s club. Jim and Harvey entered the building and were quickly stopped in their tracks by Gabe.

                “Club’s not open yet,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

                “We’re here to talk with Cobblepot. Police business,” Jim explained before Harvey could say something nasty. Gabe shook his head.

                “The boss is busy. You –“

                “Now, now, Gabe. Don’t be rude to guests,” Oswald chided, limping into view. “Detectives. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

                Harvey stormed over.

                “Cut the crap, Penguin. You should have been expecting us after doing what you did,” he snapped. Oswald arched an eyebrow.

                “My, someone’s in a bad mood. How about you explain to me why you’re here since I clearly was _not_ expecting you,” he said, turning his gaze from Harvey to Jim. Jim couldn’t help the frown that settled on his features.

                “Is your father Tucker Cobblepot?” he asked bluntly. Oswald’s eyes widened.

                “…Yes, but how did you know that? What’s this about?” he inquired. Harvey snorted.

                “Like you don’t know! Your dad was hired at the GCPD,” he replied brusquely. Now Oswald seemed really shocked, his mouth dropping open a bit.

                “E-excuse me? Is that some kind of joke?” he demanded, eyes narrowing quickly in suspicion. Jim shook his head.

                “No, it’s not a joke.”

                Harvey glared down at Penguin.

                “You really didn’t know?” he asked, unsure of whether to believe the other’s surprise. Oswald frowned.

                “No, I didn’t know. How would I have known? The last time I saw him I was only five years old,” he snapped. “Now, would you be so kind as to tell me _why_ my father is working for the GCPD?”

                Jim sighed and ran his hand over his hair.

                “We don’t know exactly. Just that Barnes said he was suspicious of the people I work with. He thought your father would be of some help, or something,” he explained.                 Harvey spun to face Jim.

                “Whoa, whoa, whoa! This is because you’re all friendly with Penguin?” he exclaimed, clearly pissed. Oswald huffed.

                “I’m quite busy, so if you two would go?” he said. Jim nodded.

                “Yeah, sure. Harvey we’ll talk about this elsewhere,” he agreed. Harvey cussed him out all the way back to the car.

  

* * *

 

 

                “You’ve got to be joking, Jim. Please tell me you aren’t serious?” Lee asked, settling into bed. Jim was getting tired of that response. Of course he was serious.

                “When have you ever known me to joke around, Lee?” Jim retorted, joining her.

                “Good point,” Lee agreed. “But really, what was Barnes thinking?”

                “I wish I knew,” Jim replied, shutting off the light. Lee was quiet for a moment.

                “You don’t think Penguin – “

                “I know he didn’t. Harvey and I talked to him earlier and he was genuinely shocked.”

                Jim could feel Lee’s eyes on him in the dark. He knew what she was thinking.

                “Just leave it. Please. It’s probably just a coincidence.”

                “Fine. Goodnight, Jim.”

                “Mhh.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos! I hope you all enjoy this new chapter. :)

 

Chapter 2

                Jim tried his best to ignore Mr. Cobblepot’s presence at the precinct for the rest of the week. He failed. Jim tried his best not to notice little things Mr. Cobblepot did that Penguin did as well. He failed at that too. Jim wondered if Mrs. Kapleput had something to do with the fact that the two dressed similarly. He wouldn’t put it past her.

                Jim’s thoughts wandered back to the conversation with Cobblepot. Penguin had been rather stand-offish when they talked – though he _had_ said he was busy. Jim wondered if Cobblepot was still mad at him for keeping him from Galavan, even if he’d eventually helped him in the end.

                “Mr. Gordon, would you talk with me, please?”

                Jim looked up from his desk at Mr. Cobblepot.

                “Sure,” he replied with a tight-lipped smile. Mr. Cobblepot wasn’t put off in the least.

                “Excellent. I was going over the files Captain Barnes left for me and noticed one criminal in particular continuously pops up. Penguin, I believe he’s called,” he said, leaning slightly against Jim’s desk. Harvey, who had been eating a danish and ignoring the situation, was now watching them.

                “Yeah. He’s a local mafia boss. He’s helped the GCPD a couple of times,” Jim replied cautiously. Mr. Cobblepot nodded and smiled.

                “Yes, that’s what the files said. Also that he owns a club. I managed to get a warrant to search the place, since previously it seems you’ve been unable to get substantial evidence against him,” he said, holding up said warrant.

                Jim stared at the paper, vainly hoping it might spontaneously combust. It did no such thing.

                “I’d like it if you and Mr. Bullock would go with me to search the place. It seems as though you two know him best, after all,” Mr. Cobblepot continued. Harvey snorted.

                “I’d hardly say I know him,” he snarked. “And I’d like to keep it that way.”

                Mr. Cobblepot stood up properly.

                “Be that as it may, I would still appreciate your cooperation,” he said, pocketing the warrant. Harvey sighed and stood.

                “I don’t really have a choice, now, do I?” he replied resignedly. Jim stood and headed down the stairs.

                “No, probably not. Let’s just get this over with,” he said.

 

* * *

 

                When Jim, Harvey, and Mr. Cobblepot arrived at Penguin’s club, Oswald was dressed in his purple fur coat and was in the middle of pulling on his gloves. He looked up at the sound of their arrival and smiled at Jim.

                “Detectives, what can I do for…you…?” Oswald’s question trailed off as he spotted Mr. Cobblepot. Jim moved as Mr. Cobblepot brushed past him, holding out the warrant.

                “We have a warrant to search the property, Mr. Penguin,” he said. Oswald seemed momentarily caught off guard before the grin returned – clearly fake this time. Jim wasn’t sure what was going to happen but he was glad he brought his gun.

                “Well, isn’t this nice,” Oswald said, his hands fluttering up. “I mean, when one’s father leaves for good, one doesn’t expect to see them again with a warrant in hand.”

                Mr. Cobblepot froze. Jim could see him looking Penguin up and down before a look of realization crossed his face. Jim could also see the slightly unhinged glint in Penguin’s eyes.

                “Oswald?”

                Oswald laughed mirthlessly.

                “Surprise! What a wonderful reunion, don’t you think?” he asked. “I’d like to stick around but I have a business meeting to attend.”

                “Wait. How…you’re a mob boss?” Mr. Cobblepot asked.

                “I prefer the title: King of Gotham,” Oswald said with a theatrical bow. He glanced back at his henchman. “Gabe, please call Victor and tell him I’ll be a little late.”

                Mr. Cobblepot frowned.

                “Your mother can’t have agreed to this lifestyle, could she? Where is she?” he demanded. Jim had a hand on his gun now. That line of questioning was not likely to end well.

                Oswald’s smile faded for only a moment.

                “Well, _father_ , not that you care, but she’s dead. Murdered. Right in front of me,” he snapped. Mr. Cobblepot’s frown disappeared.

                “I’m sorry to hear that, Oswald. Can we talk? Privately?” he requested. Oswald pulled off his gloves and shrugged off his coat before throwing them down on the counter of the bar.

                “Fine. Since I’m already late for my meeting, why not?” he replied. “Gabe, keep the detectives company.”

                Jim watched as Mr. Cobblepot followed Penguin out of site.

 

                Oswald limped angrily into his office. He settled behind his desk and watched his father close the door behind him.

                “So. What could you possibly want to talk about? My career choices? My social life? Your amazing parenting skills?” Oswald asked, drumming his fingers against the arm of his chair. Mr. Cobblepot sighed, sitting across from him.

                “Look, Oswald. I’m sorry for leaving, but that doesn’t excuse you becoming a criminal,” he said sternly. Oswald leaned back in his chair.

                “You have no right to lecture me. How else was I supposed to care for mother?” he retorted. His father shook his head.

                “You should have been in foster care. Your mother was very unwell, surely you must have known that?”

                If looks could kill, Mr. Cobblepot would have keeled over in his chair at that very moment.

                “Mother was a wonderful, loving lady. She may have had her problems but she _loved_ me. That’s more than I can say for you,” Oswald spat. Mr. Cobblepot frowned.

                “I would have taken you with me when I left, but I couldn’t. Her lies made that impossible,” he insisted. Oswald stood, hands planted firmly on his desk.

                “It would do you well to not speak ill of the dead!” he hissed. “You think I don’t remember how you were? Why would I have wanted to live with you?”

                Oswald waddled out from behind his desk and out the door. He heard his father hurrying after him.

                “You can search the place, father, but you won’t find anything,” Oswald said, waving his hand about. Mr. Cobblepot grabbed his arm and Oswald teetered to a stop.

                “Oswald!”

                Oswald wrenched his arm from his father’s grasp.

                “Don’t you DARE touch me!” he snarled. Mr. Cobblepot looked exasperated.

                “Look, just calm down. You’re going to fall over with that limp of yours if you keep storming off,” he said.

                “I’m so glad you stopped by to pretend like you care. Now get out,” Oswald growled. The sound of a slap echoed throughout the room. Oswald blinked, his jaw dropping in shock – not quite registering the sting on cheek just yet.

                “You-“

                “Back off, Mr. Cobblepot!” shouted Jim as he rushed over. Oswald noticed the glare Jim was leveling at his father and was even more surprised when Jim stepped between them. “I think it would be best for you to go wait in the car.”

                Mr. Cobblepot stood silently for a moment, glaring first at Jim, then at Oswald. Finally he headed for the door.

                “Mr. Bullock, search the place,” snapped Mr. Cobblepot as he stomped out the front door. Jim turned to Penguin and was caught off guard by the frown Oswald was giving him.

                “As much as I appreciate your heroism at times, I could have handled that myself,” he said petulantly. Jim watched him limp over to the bar to collect his coat and gloves. Something told him that Oswald was truthfully relieved at his interference.

                “Yeah, sure. You’re welcome,” Jim replied, sarcasm rather evident in his tone. Oswald pulled on his coat, quickly fluffed up the fur, and began tugging on his gloves. He was very determinedly ignoring Gabe and Jim.

                “Look, had I known he was going to be like that I would have insisted he not come,” Jim said, walking over. Oswald glanced over his shoulder at him.

                “Well you didn’t know,” he replied tersely. Oswald slowly turned around and smiled. Whether it was genuine or not, Jim honestly couldn’t tell. “I’m not mad at _you._  Just him. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep him away from here in the future.”

                Jim shook his head.

                “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try. He wants to get you arrested, and he seems very stubborn about it,” he explained. Oswald was quickly invading his personal space.

                “Do you know just how many favors I’ve done for you? Killing Galavan may have narrowed down the list a bit, but you haven’t exactly been treating me like a friend, Jim,” he fumed, jutting his chin forward. Jim frowned and pulled himself up to his full height.

                “I thought friends don’t owe friends?” he countered. “Besides, if he has a warrant there’s not much I can do about it.

                Oswald’s jaw tensed for a moment before he backed off. Harvey joined them by the bar, looking rather annoyed.

                “The place is clean,” he reported. Oswald turned away from them.

                “Clearly now is not the best time to discuss these matters. I must get going. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon enough, Jim,” he said.

 

* * *

 

                Jim climbed out of his car, looking forward to just getting into his apartment and going to bed. He had been happy to work on a relatively normal case for a few days. Jim had tried to avoid Mr. Cobblepot, but Captain Barnes made that impossible as he had made him spend his free moments helping find more evidence against Penguin. Luckily he had been able to keep Mr. Cobblepot from returning to Penguin’s club.

                Jim heard the familiar uneven footsteps approaching as he made his way to the apartment complex’s front doors and he frowned.

                “Jim! So glad I caught you,” Oswald called with a shy smile. Jim sighed and turned to face the mobster.

                “What do you want, Cobblepot?” he asked. Oswald came to a stop, standing a bit too close for Jim’s comfort.

                “My apologies for bothering you so late at night, but I know your very busy during the day – as am I – so I wasn’t sure when else I could come and talk to you,” he babbled. Jim’s frown deepened. He really didn’t want to stand out in the snow chatting.

                “What do you want?” Jim repeated a little more harshly. Oswald’s smile dropped a little before returning at full force.

                “I merely wanted to apologize for the way I talked to you the other day, Jim. You were only trying to help, but I didn’t properly thank you,” he explained. Jim raised an eyebrow.

                “You came all this way, in the snow, to apologize and thank me?” he asked skeptically. Oswald giggled.

                “Yes, of course,” he replied with a dismissive wave his hand. Jim raised an eyebrow.

                “Though I must admit I had something to ask of you as well,” Oswald granted. “I was hoping you might convince my father to leave Gotham.”

                Jim rubbed his temples.

                “Cobblepot…” he began in a warning tone. Oswald tottered closer.

                “Please, Jim. His staying here will only cause trouble for everyone. Especially you and me,” he insisted. Jim looked Oswald in the eyes.

                “How?” he demanded. Oswald shrunk back, looking away.

                “He may seem like a good man, but I assure you he’s anything but,” he said, obviously unwilling to elaborate. Jim’s eyes narrowed.

                “Are you really qualified to judge such things?” he asked. Oswald’s gaze snapped back to Jim, angry and hurt.

                “Do you think I don’t know the difference between right and wrong? I’m not _stupid_ , Jim. Just because I am the way I am doesn’t mean I’m not well aware of what the world deems right and wrong. I promise you I am _very_ well aware,” he replied, voice tight.

                Jim regretted having asked such a thing, not that he’d say so. Oswald was incredibly intelligent, so of course he knew right from wrong.

                “What is it that makes him so bad, then?” Jim asked. Oswald’s lips thinned.

                “It’s not important _what_ , just that he is. Please, Jim,” he was practically begging now. Jim couldn’t believe this. Couldn’t believe he was actually going to listen to Oswald. However, he had a feeling he knew what made Mr. Cobblepot so detestable in Oswald’s eyes and if his hunch was correct, Jim couldn’t just leave things be.

                “Fine. I’ll see what I can do,” he conceded. Jim pointedly ignored the bright happiness that shone from Oswald’s eyes.

                “Thank you, Jim. You won’t regret it,” he beamed. Jim smiled back, though it was more like a grimace.

                “Uh huh,” he replied cynically. Jim watched Oswald waddle off before heading into the apartment.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments! It really makes my day reading them. :)  
> Please enjoy this newest chapter.

Chapter 3

 

                Jim was getting ready to leave for the night when he heard someone approaching.

                “Ah, Mr. Gordon, I’m glad I caught you before you left,” Mr. Cobblepot said, clapping a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “I was hoping we could talk for a minute or two.”

                Jim grit his teeth, but nodded.

                “Sure,” he agreed reluctantly. Jim followed Mr. Cobblepot to the filing room.

                “First things first, I wanted to say I let my temper get the best of me at the club. I shouldn’t have slapped my son, but anger sometimes gets the best of you. I’m sure you understand,” Mr. Cobblepot said. Jim’s gave a tight lipped smile in response.

                “What did you really want to talk about?” he asked. Mr. Cobblepot adjusted his tie.

                “Yes, alright. I wanted to ask you about a man named Galavan. He was briefly the mayor, correct? And he went missing recently?” he inquired. Jim kept his expression carefully blank.

                “That’s right. He was found out to have been corrupt, and a member of a cult,” he replied. Mr. Cobblepot nodded.

                “That’s too bad. Hadn’t he been trying to put Oswald away, though? I believe it was the mayor before him that had been kidnapped and tortured by my son…Why wasn’t he arrested for that, by the way?” he probed. Jim frowned slightly.

                “Those charges were dropped once it was, eventually, learned that Galavan was lying. Penguin had nothing to do with that,” he explained. “It was Galavan who had kidnapped and tortured the previous mayor.”

                Mr. Cobblept eyed Jim for a moment before smiling.

                “That’s right. I remember being told by Captain Barnes you were adamantly against the thought Oswald had done that. You were also very eager to get Galavan arrested,” he remarked. Mr. Cobblepot’s smile disappeared as he thought for a moment. “It seems likely to me that Mr. Galavan was murdered – probably by Oswald.”

                Jim’s eyes narrowed.

                “As we haven’t found a body, there’s no way of knowing _what_ happened to him. I’d assume he left Gotham once his criminal activities were discovered,” he said flatly. Mr. Cobblepot nodded and was smiling once again.

                “Maybe. I’m sure you and Mr. Bullock are doing your best to figure that out,” he replied, leaving the room. “Good day, Mr. Gordon.

 

* * *

 

                Over the next few days, Mr. Cobblepot interrupted Jim’s day to question him.

                “Is it true you were meant to kill Oswald on the orders of Don Falcone?”

                “The club my son owns, it used to belong to someone known as Fish Mooney. What ever happened to her? Another mysterious disappearance it seems.”

                “How many times have you gone to Oswald for help with cases?”

                “Don Falcone and Don Maroni were both murdered. Did you ever find out who killed them?”

                “Mr. Loeb, the man who was commissioner here when you first started…He was murdered right after you were brought back to work here, correct?”

                Jim was even more on edge than he’d been before. It was taking all his will power to not deck Mr. Cobblepot on sight.

 

* * *

 

                Jim stood stiffly in Captain Barnes’ office, trying to come up with the best way to start.

                “Sir, I don’t think Mr. Cobblepot should work here any longer,” he said. Barnes raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair.

                “And why is that, Gordon? Don’t tell me it’s because you have no issues that need resolving,” he replied. Jim gave an annoyed huff.

“No, sir. I’m not saying that. I’m saying he needs to go because he’s Penguin’s father,” he explained. Barnes looked surprised at that.

“Really? Files on him never mentioned any children,” he recalled. Jim’s jaw tensed.

“I’m positive. Penguin confirmed it when we went to search his club,” he stated. Barnes stood and paced for a moment.

“Well, be that as it may his record speaks for itself. Mr. Cobblepot is a valuable asset. Unless you can prove he has ulterior motives or is a criminal like his son, I don’t see why he can’t work here,” he replied. Jim frowned.

“Sir,” he protested. Barnes waved him off.

“Jim, don’t argue with me. Get back to work,” he ordered. Jim frowned, gritting his teeth.

“Yes, sir,” he snapped, leaving the office.

  

* * *

 

                Papers and manila folders were scattered about the dining room table. Jim made a noise of irritation and dropped the papers in his hand onto the table to join the rest.

                “Jim, are you coming to bed?” Lee asked, walking over and placing her hands on Jim’s shoulders. Jim sighed and rubbed his temples.

                “In a minute. Sorry to keep you up. You should go to bed,” he replied. Lee shook her head.

“Jim you’re working too much. I don’t understand why you are so determined to help Penguin. It’s only going to further drag you down. You’re a good man, and I don’t want to see that change,” she protested. Jim frowned at her.

“You think me keeping someone potentially corrupt out of the GCPD will make me go bad?” he snapped. Lee heaved a sigh.

“That’s not at all what I’m saying. You know that,” she said. Jim went back to his papers.

“I can’t take a break yet, Lee. You know I can’t just leave things like this be,” he replied. Lee gave him a look before turning and walking away. Jim waited until she was in the bedroom before beginning to clean up the mess he’d made.

                Once the table was clean, Jim grabbed a bottle of whisky and poured himself a drink. He trudged over to the window and looked out at the lurid glow of the city. Jim had been sure he’d be able to find something, _anything_ , against Mr. Cobblepot. Unfortunately, his records were clean. Jim had noticed as well the Barnes had been correct – there was no mention of having a child or a previous marriage.

                Jim tossed back his drink and frowned at his reflection in the glass. He would have to talk to Oswald and get some proper answers from him. It would be the only way – though what good it would do without proof that he wasn’t lying…Jim sighed.

                Honestly he shouldn’t be doing all of this. Jim had tried to stop getting involved with Cobblepot, but clearly that wasn’t going to happen. He shouldn’t allow the mobster to continue to think they would be friends or even acquaintances. But, for some reason, he couldn’t do that. Jim, for one reason or another, was drawn to the strange man. That only pissed him off more.

                Jim set the glass down and rested his forehead against the cool glass of the window. He hated thinking about his relationship with Cobblepot. It was too weird, and wrong, and complex. But somehow, Cobblepot was the only one who really knew him in this god forsaken city. Jim snorted and headed to the bedroom. The fact a criminal knew him better than his own girlfriend should worry him more than it did.

  

* * *

 

               Jim watched Oswald slide awkwardly into the barely clean booth he had chosen at the diner. He was grateful, for once, for the day off and had used it to contact Oswald to hopefully get some answers.

                “You couldn’t have chosen a better venue to meet?” Oswald complained, finally settling. Jim shrugged and took a sip of his coffee.

                “This seemed like a place neither one of us frequent, so I figured it’d be best,” he replied. Oswald sniffed disdainfully but didn’t comment on the place further.

                “I must admit, Jim, I was a little surprised you invited me out for lunch. Though maybe next time I should choose the place,” he said with a smile as he picked up his menu and perused it. Jim ignored the ‘next time’ comment.

                “I wanted to talk,” he explained. The waitress’ approach stopped Jim from continuing.

                “What can I get for ya?” the older woman asked, chewing her gum loudly. Jim smiled politely despite his disgust.

                “The turkey sandwich, please,” he replied.

                “Sure thing, sweetheart,” the waitress said. Oswald gave a condescending smile.

                “I’ll have the tuna fish sandwich. And be sure there’s not too much mayonnaise in it,” he ordered. Jim watched the waitress raise an eyebrow then walk away.

                “She going to spit in your food, I hope you know,” he commented. Oswald frowned.

                “If she knows what’s good for her, she won’t,” he huffed. “Anyway…How are you, Jim? Looking forward to having a child with Ms. Tompkins? How is she doing?”

                Jim nearly choked on his coffee. He composed himself quickly and looked at Oswald.

                “That’s an…odd topic to start with,” Jim said. Oswald tilted his head to the side.

                “Is it?” he asked. “My apologies, then, Jim.”

                Jim shook his head.

                “Don’t be. Uh, I don’t really know how to answer that question, though. I haven’t really been thinking about it too much,” he confessed. “I guess she’s doing alright. She hasn’t complained about anything in particular.”

                Oswald pursed his lips for a moment.

                “I see. Don’t you think that’s strange?” he inquired. Jim raised an eyebrow.

                “I don’t know. Should I think that?” he asked. Oswald shrugged.

                “Well, maybe not. It’s just, I thought she’d definitely be complaining of morning sickness by now,” he insinuated. Their food arrived and Oswald took his time inspecting his sandwich as Jim tried to come up with a response.

                “She probably just doesn’t want to bother me with that, since I’ve been working on cases,” Jim reasoned. Oswald nodded.

                “Of course. That must be it,” he agreed, though Jim could sense the skepticism. Before Jim could ask what he was implying, however, Oswald continued. “Have you gotten anywhere in convincing my father to leave?”

                Jim sighed and shook his head.

                “No. I tried to get Barnes to fire him, but he said he has no reason to. As always, he needs proof of any wrong doings before he does anything,” he explained, tone tinged with frustration. “I looked through all the files we have on him. There’s nothing in there that proves he’s a bad guy.”

                “Then you don’t believe me?” Oswald demanded, incensed.  Jim’s eyes widened.

                “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying I don’t have any evidence against him,” he replied. Jim wasn’t sure exactly why he was trying to reassure Oswald, but he was. Oswald eyed him.

                “Then what do you plan to do?” he asked. Jim really didn’t want to ask what he was about to ask. He told himself it was because he didn’t want to know more about Oswald than he did already, though that was a lie.

                “I need to know what ever information you have,” Jim said. Oswald looked down at his sandwich.

                “Jim…” he trailed off.

                “You need to tell me whatever it is so I can get him out of Gotham,” Jim insisted. Oswald’s eyes rose to meet his.

                “Jim, please…I can’t.”

                Jim had only heard Oswald so vulnerable sounding once before.

                “ _He killed my mother, Jim!”_

                Jim nodded.

                “Alright, Oswald. I’ll see what more I can do,” he relented. Oswald sighed in relief.

                “Thank you, Jim.”

 

* * *

 

                The glow of the crackling fire flickered over Oswald as he sat thinking in his chair, absently swirling his wine in its glass. After his talk with Jim the other day he wondered if he should tell him what he wanted to know. Oswald took a sip of his wine and sighed.

                As much as he hated admitting his weaknesses, he did trust Jim. Jim wasn’t like the others in his life. Oh, Oaswald knew Jim thought badly of him – but it was due to his actions and job, not his appearance. He also knew Jim liked him at least a little bit, in _some_ capacity. Otherwise Jim wouldn’t have continued to pay Oswald visits, nor would he have helped with Galavan.

                So, perhaps, Oswald could tell Jim. Maybe it would even be beneficial. Garner him more sympathy…maybe an actual friend. Though Oswald very much wanted to be more than friends, he’d take what he could get. For now, anyway. After having planted a seed of doubt in Jim’s mind about Ms. Tompkins (the horrid bitch got what she deserved after insulting him), he knew he wouldn’t have to wait long before Jim was single again. The thought made his lips curl in a delightedly mischievous grin.

                Oswald gave a start at the sound of someone beating on his door.

                “Penguin, open up! This is the GCPD, you’re under arrest!” came a shout from outside. Oswald gaped at the door for a second before shooting up out of his seat. He frowned as he limped to the door. Of course the police had waited until after he sent Gabe home for the night.

                “Do you have a warrant?” Oswald called. The door was smashed in and three police officers that Oswald didn’t recognize stormed in, followed by his father.

 

                Oswald sat in the back of the police car, hands cuffed behind his back. He had gone without putting up a fight – the less they had against him the easier it would be to get out of this situation after all.

                “You can try and pretend to be good all you want, but I know the truth,” Oswald said, surprisingly calm. Mr. Cobblepot didn’t take his eyes off the slippery road. The lights of Gotham’s night life lit the interior of the car, allowing Oswald to easily see the icy look on his father’s face.

                “Now who has no right to lecture? You’re a criminal, Oswald. You’ve killed people just to become something. Well the only thing you’ve become is a monster,” Mr. Cobblepot replied. Oswald’s hands twitched in the handcuffs – what he wouldn’t give to be free and have a knife right now.

                “I’m wounded by such accusations,” he grit out, glaring at the back of his father’s head. “Really, I am. But if I’m a monster, you’re something much, much worse.”

                “You’re going to be sent to Arkham. Hopefully there you’ll get the help you clearly need,” Mr. Cobblepot said.

                “Arkham?”

                Oswald felt a cold dread crawl up his spine.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

                Jim opened the door to his apartment to see Harvey on the other side, booze in hand.

                “I didn’t expect you to come over, but thanks,” Jim said, stepping aside. Harvey snorted.

                “What? You thought I was just going to ignore the fact you just told me Lee lied? I’m not that heartless, Jimbo,” he replied with a shake of his head. Jim grabbed some shot glasses and the two sat on his couch - Harvey pouring them both drinks.

                “How’d you even find out the pregnancy was a lie anyway?” Harvey asked curiously, holding out a glass. Jim took the drink proffered him.

                “Well, I had my suspicions when she wasn’t showing any signs – like morning sickness. I did some investigation and with a bit of help from Ed, I found out she’d lied,” he explained. “I told her we were done, grabbed my things, came back here and called you.”

                Harvey was about to reply when his phone rang. Giving Jim an apologetic look, he answered.

                “What? It’s late!” Harvey greeted gruffly. Jim watched a surprised look appear on Harvey’s face as he listened to whoever had called. “Huh, really? That was easy. Yeah. Okay.”

                Harvey hung up and downed his drink.

                “Penguin was just arrested by his dad. He’s being brought to Arkham,” he explained. Jim’s eyes widened.

                “What!?” he exclaimed, practically leaping out of his seat. Harvey frowned.

                “Whoa, calm down,” he said, standing himself. Jim grabbed his coat from where he’d dropped it across the back of a chair and tugged it on.

                “Where the hell are you going? Don’t tell me you’re going after them?” Harvey demanded. “The little shit is getting what he deserves! I thought you wanted to clean this city up, not help it go even further down the shitter.”

                Jim frowned and headed for the door.

                “Dammit, Jim!” Harvey growled, following his partner out.

  

* * *

 

               Despite the snow and slick roads, Jim sped along the dark streets – most definitely breaking the speed limit.

               “I can’t believe I’ve been dragged into this! Jim you owe me several dozen danishes for this,” Harvey complained from the passenger’s seat.

               “Fine. I’ll even throw in whatever kind of drink you want with them,” Jim agreed, glaring at the road. Harvey seemed placated enough by that to stop complaining.

               “So, do you even _have_ a plan?” he asked. Jim swerved around an SUV and spotted a police car.

               “Take them by surprise and get Cobblepot free?” he replied. Harvey frowned.

               “That sounded like a question,” he grumped. Jim ignored him and sped up even more. He pulled up alongside the police car and spotted Cobblepot in the back.

               “That’s it!” he exclaimed. Jim drove close to the other vehicle and it moved out of the way. He frowned and followed it, rolling down his window and letting in a flurry of snow – much to Harvey’s dismay.

               “Hey! Pull over!” Jim shouted, though he doubted he could be heard. Cobblepot spotted him and even through the snow and tinted glass Jim could see the happy expression. Jim watched as Cobblepot turned and said something to his father, causing the car gradually pulled over.

               Jim put the window back up and pulled over behind the police car. He and Harvey got out and approached the police car. Mr. Cobblepot rolled down his window.

               “Mr. Gordon, I’m a little surprised by your behavior. What’s the meaning of this?’ he asked with a frown. Jim glared down at him.

               “Get out of the car,” he demanded. Mr. Cobblepot looked ready to refuse. “Now!”

               Jim stepped back as Mr. Cobblepot unbuckled and got out of the car.

               “Mr. Gordon I am doing you – and Gotham – a huge favor right now,” he reasoned. The expression of shock as Jim’s fist slammed into his face was satisfying. 

               “Jim!” Harvey exclaimed. “What the fuck!?”

               As Mr. Cobblepot scrambled to get back up, Jim opened the back door and dragged Penguin out.

               “Jim, old friend! I’m so glad to see you!” Oswald exclaimed. Jim ignored him and turned back to Mr. Cobblepot. He grabbed him by the lapels and slammed him against a building.

               “I’m only going to tell you once – get the hell out of Gotham!” Jim snarled. Mr. Cobblepot took the close proximity as an opportunity to knee Jim hard.

               “The other officers will be circling back soon when they realize I’m not with them,” Mr. Cobblepot sneered as Jim stumbled back with a grunt of pain. Harvey rushed past him and Jim looked up to see his partner punching Mr. Cobblepot harder than he had.

               Jim turned and approached Oswald who had found the handcuffs’ key and was freeing himself.

               “C’mon. We’re getting out of here,” he growled, grabbing Cobblepot’s arm and bringing him to his car.

               “Thank you, Jim!” Oswald exclaimed, eagerly following along. Jim opened the door and Cobblepot got in. Harvey strode over, glare apparent even in the dark.

               “He’s been knocked out, but not for long…probably. We shouldn’t be in too much trouble if you can come up with an excuse that’s not half-assed,” he snapped, sliding into the passenger’s seat. Jim got into the car and drove off.

               “Thanks, Harvey. I’ll drop you off so you don’t have to deal with this any longer,” he said. Harvey gave an annoyed huff.

               “Wonderful,” he replied sarcastically.

  

* * *

 

                Jim did as promised and dropped Harvey off at his apartment before driving in the direction of Cobblepot’s club.

                “Wait, Jim…He knows where I work and live, clearly. I’d appreciate it if you could drop me off elsewhere,” Oswald spoke up, leaning forward a bit to see him better from the back seat. Jim glanced back at him.

                “Okay, where then?” he asked. Oswald was quite for a moment.

                “My mother’s home would be best, I think,” he replied. Jim gave a stiff nod.

 

                When they arrived at the apartment complex Cobblepot’s mother had lived in, Jim turned in his seat to look at Oswald.

                “I think we ought to talk,” he said gruffly. Oswald nodded.

                “I agree. I was actually planning to call you tomorrow to suggest such a thing,” he admitted. They left the car and made their way inside.

                Jim followed behind Cobblepot as they climbed the stairs. He wondered how Oswald was able to do so without wincing in pain – these stairs couldn’t have been good for his leg. Jim had given up trying to tell himself that he wasn’t concerned about Oswald. Lying to himself was certainly getting him nowhere.

                Finally they got to the apartment and once they were inside Jim couldn’t help but look around. He’d been here once before and it was just as gaudy and cluttered as the first time. Jim noticed Oswald tense for a moment before taking off his coat and limping over to the fireplace.

                “I’m afraid I can only offer you water,” Oswald said, truly sounding sorry at not being able to be a good host. Jim shrugged his own coat off and hung it up beside Oswald’s next to the door.

                “It’s fine. I’m not particularly thirsty,” he replied. Oswald stood by the fireplace awkwardly, looking into the fire as it sparked to life. Jim sighed, knowing he’d be the one to have to start the conversation. “Will you tell me what happened between you and your father, besides him leaving?”

                Oswald gave a strained smile.

                “You always get right to the point, don’t you?” he asked, though it was clearly rhetorical. Oswald was quite for a few moments, trying to get his emotions in check. “If you really must know…he used to hit mother and I. Often.”

                Jim clenched his jaw. He’d been afraid that’s what had happened.

                “He seemed to think that doing so would make mother well again. That he could just beat the illness out of her. He also thought that by giving me the same treatment it wouldn’t be passed on,” Oswald continued, seemingly unaware of Jim slowly making his way closer. Jim noticed Oswald’s hands were clenched at his side instead of gesturing wildly as they usually did when he spoke. “I saw him with other women on multiple occasions. Mother saw it once and…it didn’t go over well. Then father left.”

                Jim was close enough to see Oswald trembling ever so slightly. Though the smaller man wouldn’t look at him, he could see the pain in those pale jade eyes. Ignoring the rational part of his brain, Jim awkwardly wrapped his arms around Oswald and pulled him into a hug.

               Oswald stiffened and his eyes widened. After realizing it wasn’t some form of attack or even a trick, he relaxed. While normally he was not fond of surprise physical contact, this was nice.

               Jim could feel Oswald’s slim fingers gripping the front of his shirt even as his trembling abated. The smell of frankincense and bergamot was almost overwhelming – but not quite.

               “I should have punched him harder,” he commented. Oswald gave a shaky laugh. “Oswald…I believe what your telling me, but I’m going to need some sort of proof. Barnes won’t believe you without it.”

               Jim pretended not to see the slight blush on Oswald’s pale cheeks as the smaller man pulled away.

               “I thought as much. Another reason I suggested coming here,” he said, turning and waddling from the room. Jim didn’t have to wait long before Oswald returned, papers in hand. “Medical records. From the few times mother and I had to go to the hospital. Mother avoided going if she could help it, however. She never trusted their methods.”

               Jim grit his teeth for a moment before accepting the papers. He looked them over briefly before looking back at Oswald.

               “These should be enough to get him fired, at least. He may leave Gotham after that,” Jim said. Oswald smiled up at him. Jim could even see the faint traces of the adoration in his eyes that had been so apparent when they had first started working together and that had disappeared sometime around the incident with Falcone and Maroni in the hospital.

               “I very much appreciate this, Jim. I knew I could trust you. You really are a true friend,” Oswald replied. Jim gave an awkward smile in response.

               “Well, I should get going. I’ll bring these to Barnes early tomorrow. I’ll let you know how it goes,” he promised, walking back to the door to pick up his coat.

               “Of course. I wouldn’t want to keep you here longer than necessary,” Oswald said, still all smiles. Jim pulled on his coat and opened the door. “…Have a good night, Jim.”

               Jim glanced back over his shoulder.

               “Uh, yeah. Thanks. You too, Oswald.”

               Oswald watched Jim leave, enjoying the strange but happy fluttering feeling in his chest.

 

* * *

 

                When Jim returned to his own apartment, he stored the papers in the drawer of a side table by his couch before heading to bed. He collapsed on his bed – not even bothering undressing. Jim had hoped that after the mess with Galavan, things would have quieted down for at least a little longer than they had.

                As much as Gotham’s problems irked Jim, he had to admit it was not a boring place and he’d likely be highly unhappy anywhere else. Which is why, ultimately, Jim was actually glad Lee had lied about being pregnant. Had she really been, Jim knew he would have had to leave the city behind. Jim was under no delusions that this place would be good for a child and he would never force this lifestyle on one.

                Jim sighed and tried to shut his brain off. Eventually he fell into a deep sleep. If Jim’s dream just happened to feature Oswald, well, it was understandable given the current events. Besides, no-one needed to know and Jim was good at ignoring such things.  


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

 

                Jim clutched the medical records in his hand as stood by the entrance of the station. He watched Barne’s car pull into its parking space and felt his jaw tense for a moment. Captain Barnes got out and trudged through the snow. When he spotted Jim he looked surprised to see him.

                “You’re here early. Must be important,” Barnes commented, leading Jim inside.

                “It is, sir. I have proof of why Mr. Cobblepot shouldn’t be allowed to work here,” he replied. Barnes sighed, but didn’t reply.

                The station seemed a lot larger when there was no-one around but a couple of minor criminals in the cells and Ed who quickly disappeared back into the lab.

                Jim hoped that the medical records would indeed be enough proof to get Mr. Cobblepot fired. If not, well….he preferred not to think about it.

                “Alright, so what’s your proof, Gordon?” Barnes asked as they entered his office. Jim set the papers on Barnes’ desk.

                “Mr. Cobblepot was abusive towards the late Mrs. Kapleput and her son, Oswald Cobblepot. These are medical records of theirs. Severe bruising, broken bones, and more,” he explained. Jim still wished he could have hit Mr. Cobblepot a few more times, but it couldn’t be helped.

                Barnes frowned and looked over the records.

                “These _are_ suspicious, but since he was never convicted…Where did you get these records, Gordon? How do you know they’re real?” he asked. Jim glowered; he and Barnes both knew where he got them.

                “It doesn’t matter where I got them. They are real, though. If you don’t want to take my word, ask Ed. I’m sure he can prove those are real,” he replied. Barnes shuffled through the papers again.

                “Come with me,” he said, getting up. Jim followed Barnes from the office and into the lab. Ed looked up from…whatever it was he was doing. Jim really didn’t want to know what the suspicious lumps were on the table.

                “Captain Barnes, Detective Gordon,” he greeted with a grin. “What can I do for you?”

                Barnes shoved the records into Ed’s hands.

                “Are these real or forged?” he demanded. Ed pushed his glassed up his nose and looked through the papers.

                “They’re real, unfortunately. Poor Mr. Penguin,” he replied, handing the papers back. Jim couldn’t be sure if Ed’s sympathy was real or not. The guy was odd.

                Barnes humphed and left.

                “Thanks, Ed,” Jim said quickly, following his captain out.

                “I don’t like this, Gordon. But…I can’t exactly let this slide either. Fine. I’ll deal with him. In return you are going to take a break from work for a few days. Get yourself together, maybe actually see a therapist,” Barnes said sternly. Jim was both relieved and annoyed.

                “Do I have any choice?” he asked. Barnes snorted.

                “No, you don’t. Starting today you’re taking a break,” he said. Jim frowned.

                “Tomorrow,” he insisted. Barnes gave him an unamused look. After a brief stare down, Barnes caved.

                “Tomorrow. I’d better not see you back here until Monday,” he snapped.

 

 ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

                “I dunno if these are enough danishes, Jimbo,” Harvey said speculatively, eyeing the bag of pastries Jim had planted on his desk. “Especially after getting chewed out by the boss for last night.”

                Jim rolled his eyes.

                “I’ll bring in more Monday. Happy?” he huffed. Harvey grinned.

                “Hmm, that might be too long a wait,” the older man teased. Jim raised an eyebrow and Harvey laughed.

                “Yeah, it’s fine. No need to get pissy,” he said. Jim shook his head and sat down at his desk.

                “I just hope Mr. Cobblepot actually gets fired,” he remarked, watching the front door.

                “I agree. It’d be a little hard to work with a guy you beat the shit out of,” Harvey chuckled. Jim gave him an unamused look before spotting Mr. Cobblepot storming into the station.

 

 ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

                Oswald sat in his chair at the head of the table, chin resting on his hand as he watched members of Gotham’s underworld leave the meeting. It had gone well, surprisingly. He hadn’t even needed to shoot anyone this time. When the last few people had finally left, Gabe approached.

                “Boss, Gordon’s here to talk to you,” he reported. Oswald smiled brightly.

                “Excellent. Let him in, Gabe,” he replied. Gabe left and moments later returned with Jim in tow. Oswald stood.

                “Jim, so good to see you. Please, sit,” he greeted, gesturing to one of the chairs nearest his own. “Would you like something to drink?”

                Jim hesitated for a moment before giving a slight node and awkward half-smile. Oswald was pleased to see he didn’t even have to ask Gabe to get anything as he began preparing the drinks almost immediately.

                “Sure, I guess,” Jim replied, sitting down. “I’d said I’d tell you how things went with Barnes.”

                Oswald sat as well and leaned forward.

                “Do tell,” he prompted, trying to mask his nervousness with eagerness. Gabe brought over their drinks and Jim thanked him.

                “It’s a good thing you gave me those records. Barnes fired your father – even if he was pissed that Harvey and I beat him up a bit the other night,” Jim explained. “Now that he’s out of a job here, I imagine Mr. Cobblepot will leave Gotham soon.”

                Oswald very much wanted to hug Jim in gratitude, but he managed to restrain himself.

                “I don’t know how to properly thank you, Jim…Oh, maybe I can find a way to get you promoted at work? I think Commissioner Gordon has a very nice ring to it,” he beamed, taking a sip of his drink. Jim frowned.

                “Just a ‘thank you’ is enough. Really,” he replied. Oswald’s smile dropped.

                “It was merely a joke. I know you’d prefer to get your promotions the right way,” he said. Jim shifted a bit in his seat.

                “How did you know Lee was lying about being pregnant?” he asked, deciding to change the subject. Oswald arched an eyebrow.

                “She was lying? That’s new to me,” he replied, sounding as innocent as he possibly could. Jim snorted.

                “Is that right? Then those not so subtle suggestions about her were all in my imagination,” he retorted dryly. Oswald looked at him over the rim of his glass as he took another sip of champagne.

                “Well, I may have had my doubts. It was certainly suspicious that she’d shout such a thing at that time, what with being surrounded by sociopaths,” he said, unable to hide the hint of a sneer on the last word.

                Jim sighed and rested his head in his hand.

                “I suppose I should thank you, otherwise it would have been much longer before I left her,” he replied. “Maybe a few days off wasn’t such a bad idea...”

                Oswald reached out and placed a hand on Jim’s arm.

                “I don’t know if you’ll believe me but, I am sorry she lied to you, Jim. That sort of thing really shouldn’t be lied about,” he told him, trying to be sympathetic. Oswald was definitely not practiced in the art, but he could try for Jim.

                Jim gave him one of those awkward smiles Oswald was secretly fond of.

                “Thanks,” he said gratefully. Oswald smiled back at him. His eyes widened a bit as he remembered something.

                “Jim, I was going to ask you something…” Oswald said, suddenly feeling a little nervous. Jim sat up properly, clearly somewhat suspicious.

                “What?” he inquired. Oswald gave a cautiously hopeful smile.

                “As I’m sure you’re aware, Christmas is approaching. I was planning on having a special celebration – were my father to be gone of course. You’re not fond of parties, I know, but…I’d like it if you were there, Jim,” he explained, unable to keep his hands from gesticulating enthusiastically.

                Jim was quiet for a few moments. It was certainly long enough for Oswald to lose hope.

                “Just for-“

                “Alright.”

                “…What?” Oswald blinked, rather surprised by Jim’s answer. “Alright?”

                Jim nodded.

                “Yeah, I’ll go. When is it?” he replied. Oswald couldn’t help the ecstatic grin in response.

                “Sunday, at seven,” he said, watching as Jim finished his drink and stood.

                “I’ll be there,” Jim promised. Oswald stood and followed him to the door.

                “I’ll hold you to that, Jim. And don’t even think of being late,” he replied, shaking his finger at Jim teasingly. Jim gave a nod, then left.

 

 ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

                As Sunday approached, Jim was beginning to wonder if he really should have agreed to go to Oswald’s party. As the smaller man had said, he really didn’t like parties. Then again, he said he’d show up, so he couldn’t really back out.

                Jim passed a hand over his face and leaned back against the couch. He looked around his very bare apartment. Jim didn’t exactly have anything to decorate the place with - not that he was an interior decorator by any stretch of the imagination. It was just very…cold. That was probably why he always had spent more time at Barbara’s or Lee’s apartments.

                Thinking of Lee made Jim’s jaw clench. Luckily they had managed to avoid each other at work, but he knew they’d end up having to work together again at some point. He wasn’t looking forward to that moment. Maybe going to Oswald’s party would help him to not think about such things.

                A knock at the door startled Jim from his thoughts. He rose from the couch and warily answered the door.

                “Lee?” he gaped, surprised and more than a little annoyed to see his ex standing on the other side of the door. Lee’s expression was unreadable.

                “Can I come in? I just want to talk,” she requested. Jim knew it was probably a bad idea, but he stepped aside and let her in. He watched as Lee took in his apartment before turning to face him.

                “I wanted to give you some time to cool down before trying to explain myself. Captain Barnes said you were taking some time off so I thought now was best,” she said. Jim didn’t allow himself to react.

                “Fine. Then explain yourself,” he replied gruffly. Lee looked away for a moment before starting.

                “I wanted to stop you from running off foolishly like you did. I figured the only way to do that was to give you a reason to be careful and possibly leave Gotham. To be honest I hadn’t thought the lie through all that well, it was a bit of a sudden decision,” she explained. Jim frowned.

                “You were manipulating me,” he stated. Lee crossed her arms over her chest, scowling back at him.

                “Jim, this city isn’t good for you. The people here aren’t good for you. You went from being a good, lawful man to someone I don’t even know anymore. I thought if you left with me you’d go back to being yourself again,” she argued defensively. Jim shook his head and turned away.

                “I can’t believe you!” he snapped. “If you really knew me, you’d know that Gotham has nothing to do with who I am.”

                The angry click of heels alerted Jim to Lee’s approach.

                “Oh no? If you hadn’t moved here and gotten involved with that depraved man, Penguin, would you be out there risking your life as much as you are?” she demanded. “You’ve even willfully broken the law twice now, because he asked. Yet you wouldn’t leave Gotham because I asked you to.”

                Jim turned and glared down at Lee.

                “Yes, I _would_ be risking my life as much as I am. You wouldn’t know why that is because you don’t care about that part of me. You only care about the “good” and “lawful” man you think I am. Now get out of my apartment,” he countered. Lee opened and closed her mouth before storming past Jim and out the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If my ending note from chapter one shows up here, I don't know how it happened. I'm trying to fix that. AO3 is confusing...


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

 

                Jim arrived at Oswald’s club at 7:00 on the dot. He followed several other people inside and was immediately spotted by the shorter man, who was looking a lot less ruffled than usual.

                “Jim! I’m so glad you came. And right on time, too,” Oswald greeted, grasping Jim’s hand for a moment. Jim gave a half smile and moved out of the way of the other party-goers.

                “I said I’d come,” he replied. Oswald nodded enthusiastically.

                “Of course, and I believed you. I’ll be right back. I have to greet everyone,” he said before turning and limping away. Jim made his way to the bar and decided to be just a little festive and order a spiked eggnog.

                As he waited for Oswald, Jim looked around the club and let the atmosphere soak in. The place was tastefully decorated with lots of silver and gold, someone was playing the piano, and the smell of cinnamon hung in the air. Looking over the people, Jim frowned a little. Most of them were likely criminals; however he was off duty and he really didn’t want to think about that right now.

 

                Jim had finished his drink and was starting to feel a bit more relaxed by the time Oswald returned.

                “My apologies for the wait, Jim,” he said with a small smile. Jim shook his head.

                “It’s fine. You’re the host of this party,” he replied. Oswald sat beside him and looked him over.

                “Penny for your thoughts?” he inquired, arching an eyebrow. Jim’s brows furrowed.

                “Huh?”

                Oswald gestured to the bartender and two drinks were set down a second later.

                “You seem a bit distracted. Something’s bothering you,” he explained. Jim accepted the second drink, though he wondered if it was really a good idea.

                “I’m not really bothered. Not anymore. Just…Lee stopped by my apartment a couple of days ago. She wanted to explain herself,” he replied, snorting derisively into his glass. Oswald’s eyebrows rose slightly.

                “Oh?”

                “Basically she was hoping that if she said she was pregnant I’d leave Gotham with her,” Jim explained with a glower. “I told her to leave after that. Hopefully I won’t have to deal with her outside of work anymore.”

                Oswald nodded.

                “She didn’t deserve you anyway,” he replied. Jim looked at him with a raised eyebrow and Oswald blushed and glanced away. “Well then…It’s a good thing you came here. You can get your mind off those things.”

                Jim hummed and finished off his second drink.

                “Yeah. I’m hoping for that,” he agreed. Oswald stood with a smile.

                “Then let’s go join the crowd. Sitting at a bar drinking can’t be that fun,” he suggested. Jim stared at Oswald, unsure. With a sigh he stood.

                “Fine,” he conceded. Oswald grinned and Jim followed him into the main area where the other patrons were enjoying the music. Luckily, Oswald stayed to the side. It seemed to Jim that he didn’t feel entirely comfortable in a huge crowd – which he could understand.

                “You did a really good job. The place is nice,” Jim commented. Oswald smiled at him.

                “Nothing but the best for my customers, of course,” he replied. Jim chuckled.

                “Of course,” he agreed. Jim watched as Oswald’s expression became haughty.

                “Though, to be honest, my piano skills are far superior. If I weren’t the host I’d certainly be playing the music instead,” he boasted. Jim’s eyebrows rose.

                “You play the piano?” he asked and Oswald nodded. Jim looked out at the crowd.

                “Maybe sometime you can show me,” he suggested, watching the other out of the corners of his eyes. Oswald’s eyes widened and he smiled shyly.

                “If you insist,” he replied, trying and failing to sound as unaffected as possible. Jim smiled a little.

                As the music changed, a woman in a sparkly red dress walked up onto the stage and began to sing.

                “ _The snow has fallen like it does every year_

_The tree I know so well is aglow_

_And folks are filled up with the usual holiday cheer_

_As they hang pretty lights and mistletoe.”_

                Jim blamed the alcohol in the eggnog for even considering asking Oswald to dance. It was a crazy idea. He turned to face Oswald, shutting off the rational part of his mind.

                “You, uh, want to dance?” Jim asked, feeling more than a little awkward. Oswald gaped at him, unsure if he had heard Jim right.

                “I…I’d like to, but well...Are you sure you want to dance with me?" he asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

                “ _Oh, but this year is different for you and for me_

_Our own little miracle, on our own little street.”_

                Jim held out his hand.

                “It doesn’t have to be much. We can stay right here,” he offered. Oswald hesitantly placed his hand in Jim’s.

                “Alright,” he agreed. Jim smiled and pulled Oswald close.

_“Never before have I loved 'Silent Night' so_

_But now that you're here by my side_

_Baby, it is, baby, it is_

_It really is a wonderful life.”_

                They swayed to the music. Oswald smiled happily up at Jim and Jim couldn’t help but smile back.

                “You’re dancing fine,” Jim commented. Oswald gave a quiet laugh.

                “This is barely dancing. But thank you anyway,” he replied. “You must be drunk, though. I never thought you’d ever want to dance with me.”

                Jim was about to respond when he noticed Oswald looking above their heads – suddenly becoming flustered. Jim looked up to see what was causing such a reaction.

                “I-I don’t remember ordering any mistletoe,” Oswald said with a nervous giggle, a blush appearing on his cheeks. Jim looked back down at the smaller man, eyes flicking from Oswald’s to his lips. Oswald was staring at him, biting the inside of his lip. Jim slid his hand to Oswald’s hip and cautiously leaned down as Oswald leaned up to meet him.

                Jim stopped when he noticed Oswald’s eyes flick to the side and widen.

                “Sorry, I…I’ll be right back. Please wait here, Jim,” Oswald told him, stepping back and limping quickly away. Jim frowned in confusion and turned to see Oswald grabbing his coat and umbrella before leaving the building with Gabe.

 

 ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

                Oswald hobbled into the alleyway, clutching his umbrella with such force his knuckles were turning white.

                “I don’t know what you think you’re doing here, but you’ve made a grave mistake,” he said, voice quavering with barely suppressed anger. Mr. Cobblepot glared at him.

                “I won’t be leaving Gotham until I see you behind bars,” he snapped. Oswald leaned against his umbrella, smirking.

                “Tsk, tsk. I don’t think so,” he chided, shaking his finger. “I’ve been quite merciful. I was going to let you leave on your own. But now…”

                Mr. Cobblepot raised his arm, ready to backhand Oswald, when Gabe grabbed him from behind. He gave a gasp of alarm and glanced back at the larger man. Mr. Cobblepot struggled for a moment before realizing it was useless.

                “You should never have been born in the first place!” he spat. Oswald limped closer, eyes glinting with malice despite his sweet smile.

                “What a hurtful thing to say…I think it would be beneficial for you to understand what I’ve been through,” he replied. A scream rang out into the night as Oswald’s umbrella smashed Mr. Cobblepot’s knee. “What’s the matter? Can’t take a little hit?”

                Oswald broke his father’s other knee. Gabe let go and Mr. Cobblepot crumpled to the ground.

                “Suck it up!” Oswald shouted, swinging his umbrella down on Mr. Cobblepot’s wrist. “Be a man! Remember telling me that!?”

                Oswald laughed hysterically as he brought his umbrella down again and again.

                “Os-GAH! S-stop!” Mr. Cobblepot cried out.

                “You’re not so tough now, are you!?” Oswald demanded. Mr. Cobblepot tried to move away but was stopped by Gabe’s boot.

                “Oswald! I’m your father! Please!” he pleaded. Oswald stabbed the pointed end of his umbrella down into Mr. Cobblepot’s hand.

                “NO YOU’RE NOT! Not anymore! You lost your right to call yourself my father a long time ago!” he screamed.

 

               After what felt like forever Oswald stopped and stepped back. Mr. Cobblepot whimpered in pain on the ground, spatters of blood staining the snow around him.

               “Gabe. Bring him to the car. Drop him off somewhere far from Gotham,” Oswald ordered, breathing hard.

               “Sure thing, Boss,” Gabe replied, dragging Mr. Cobblepot away. Oswald watched them go, relieved that his father would soon be gone.

               “Feeling better?”

               Oswald whirled around, wild eyed. Jim stood a little ways away, expression unreadable. Oswald lifted his chin defiantly.

               “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am,” he replied stiffly, waddling towards him.

               “I’m not going to arrest you. Or scold you. After what happened with Galavan, that would be hypocritical,” Jim said with a barely perceptible sigh. Oswald relaxed a little bit.

              The fact that Jim was allowing this was both relieving and a little sad. Oswald still thought of Jim as a good person, but he was certainly slipping further from the pedestal he might have placed him on. Not that that deterred his affections. In a world of darkness, Jim was still his light.

              “If he steps so much as a toe back in Gotham, I will kill him, Jim,” Oswald promised, stepping around Jim. Jim stopped Oswald from passing him by taking a hold of his arm.

              “I won’t get you involved should that happen,” Oswald added. Jim responded with a strained smile. He looked down at Oswald and after a moment his smile became more genuine.

              Oswald gasped as their lips suddenly connected. It was brief, though, and Jim was soon walking away. By the time Oswald’s brain started up again, Jim was gone.

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

              

                Jim sat in his car outside his apartment, glaring at the steering wheel as though _it_ was what had caused him to kiss Oswald. He could have blamed the mistletoe, had they still been inside. Maybe he could blame the eggnog? Jim nodded to himself. He blamed the eggnog.

                Jim got out of the car and trudged into the apartment building. Once in the elevator his thoughts drifted back to Oswald.

                “Crap,” Jim muttered to himself. What was he going to do now? As quick as it had been, Jim hadn’t hated kissing him.  It had, unfortunately, been rather nice.

                Jim barely registered the fact that he was now in his own apartment, as preoccupied by his thoughts as he was. His thoughts that kept focusing on Oswald’s pale jade eyes which always lit up with delight upon seeing him.

                “Crap!” Jim repeated vehemently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song in this chapter is 'It Really Is A Wonderful Life" by Mindy Smith.  
> Happy Holidays everyone!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terrible at riddles, I'm just going to say that now. :P  
> Also, yes, I am shamelessly promoting the video I made that inspired a part of this chapter. Here it is if you care to see it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8970Hn3sFB4  
> Let it be known that I am not creative with my usernames. Oh well.  
> Please enjoy the story. :)

Chapter 7

 

                “Jimbo pay attention!” Harvey snapped, waving his hand in front of Jim’s face. Jim blinked and frowned.

                “I am paying attention,” he replied defensively. Harvey raised an eyebrow.

                “Oh yeah? Then what did I just say?” he asked. Jim grimaced and Harvey snorted. “I thought so. You wanna tell me why you’re spacing out? You’re single and there’s been no new cases…”

                “Oh! I know!” Ed exclaimed, seemingly popping up out of nowhere and causing Harvey to jump out of his seat.

                “For fucks sake!” Harvey swore, sitting back down. “Don’t do that! And how would you know what’s bothering Jim?”

                “Nothing’s bothering me,” Jim protested, though both Harvey and Ed ignored him.

                “It can be felt, but isn’t tangible. It’s both amazing and painful. What is it?” Ed asked excitedly. Harvey groaned.

                “No riddles this early in the morning. Just tell me,” he complained. Ed’s smile widened.

                “A crush!” he answered. “Jim has a crush!”

                Harvey rolled his eyes.

                “What is this, high school?” he muttered. “On who? How do you even know that? ...Never mind, I don’t want to know how you know that.”

                Ed grinned from ear to ear.

                “What’s black and white and red all over?” he questioned. Harvey frowned up at him.

                “If you don’t knock it off I’m gonna smack you,” he warned. Ed was practically bouncing up and down.

                “Giving up so easily?” he snickered. “A blushing penguin, of course!”

                Jim wanted strangle Ed very, very badly.

                “A blushing penguin?” Harvey repeated, somewhat confused. Then comprehension dawned on him. “NO! Jim!? Tell me Ed’s gone off the deep end!”

                Jim huffed.

                “Ed’s gone off the deep end. I don’t have a crush on anyone,” he replied. It was a lie, despite Jim trying to tell himself it was true for three days now. No matter how mad he got or how many drinks he had, Jim could no-longer lie to himself.

                Harvey eyed him suspiciously.

                “Why don’t I believe you?” he asked. Jim shrugged.

                “Believe what you want,” he said dismissively. Harvey looked horrified and Ed, seemingly rather pleased with himself, quickly walked away.

                “You do! Dammit! I knew the little weirdo had a huge crush on _you_ , but I never thought you’d start having the hots for _him_!” he exclaimed. Jim winced; some of the officers in the bullpen had looked up to see what the commotion was about.

                “Could you say that a little louder? I don’t think the people in China heard you,” he hissed. Harvey gave a dramatic sigh and covered his face with his hands.

                “Where did I go wrong?” he lamented. Harvey suddenly sat up straight, pointing an accusatory finger at Jim. “No, wait! Where did _you_ go wrong? I mean really, Jim! Penguin?”

                Jim rolled his eyes and looked down at his paperwork.

                “I’m not discussing this with you when you’re acting like a child. I _don’t_ have a crush,” he said irritably. Harvey gave an annoyed huff.

                “Maybe Ed should take a look at your brain. You can’t be sane,” he suggested. Jim’s head snapped up.

                “Now who’s insane? What living person in their right mind would let Ed near their head?” he asked incredulously. Harvey nodded.

                “Yeah, okay, maybe that’d be a bit extreme. Hell, maybe I’m the crazy one and this is all a hallucination from too many pastries.”

  

* * *

 

                Maybe Jim really had gone crazy. That was the only rational explanation for having kissed Oswald and for going to his club now - after hours. But was that really a bad thing? Jim didn’t know and he wasn’t about to start thinking about it too hard.

                The peaceful, rumbling tone of a piano greeted Jim as he walked into the club. It took him a moment, though, to notice the singing that accompanied it.

                “… _Some things are meant to be._

_Take my hand, take my whole life too_

_For I can't help falling in love with you._ ”

                Jim hesitated by the entrance in the dark, watching Oswald up on the stage by himself. He had heard Oswald sing once before, but he hadn’t really thought about it. Oswald had a surprisingly pleasant voice.

                “ _Like a river flows surely to the sea_

_Darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be_

_Take my hand_

_Take my whole life too_

_For I can't help falling in love with you.”_

                Jim didn’t remember walking closer to the stage, but there he was. Oswald still hadn’t noticed him, clearly too focused on the piano and song.

                “ _For I can't help falling in love with you._ ”

                “You really are a better piano player,” Jim commented as the final note echoed through the empty building. Oswald gave a start, looking down at Jim with wide eyes.

                “Jim! W-what are you doing here?” he asked, standing up. Jim made his way up onto the stage. Oswald watched him cautiously as Jim approached – unsure if he should be happy to see him or not. “Jim?”

                Jim came to a stop in front of Oswald, expression serious. He cupped the smaller man’s cheek - momentarily ignoring the tiniest flinch from Oswald at seeing his raised hand – and wrapped his other arm around Oswald’s waist to bring him close.

               Oswald practically melted, his hands coming up to rest on Jim’s chest as they kissed, illuminated by the blue glow of the spotlight.

  

* * *

 

                Jim pushed Oswald up against the door to the apartment above Oswald’s club, kissing the smaller man passionately. Oswald was clutching desperately at Jim’s shirt as Jim worked off Oswald’s coat. Jim removed Oswald’s tie and got the first few buttons of his shirt undone before kissing his way down to his neck.

                “J-Jim…” Oswald moaned, trying his best to undo Jim’s tie despite his trembling fingers. It was rather difficult when he was being distracted by Jim’s mouth on his neck and occasionally his jaw.

                Jim was momentarily surprised when Oswald pushed him back before kissing him soundly on the lips. They moved from the door and, losing bits of clothing along the way, headed into the bedroom. Jim scooped Oswald – who would furiously deny the slight squeak of surprise that came out of his mouth – into his arms and gently placed him on the surprisingly ornate bed.

               Oswald looked up at him with wide eyes as Jim shrugged off his shirt and tossed it who knew where. Jim was incredibly handsome, with the perfect amount of toned muscle.

               “Jim…wait, I…” Oswald stammered, suddenly looking nervous. “I’ve never, well, done this before.”

               Jim settled over Oswald and kissed him tenderly.

               “…Do you want to stop?” he asked. Jim wondered when the panic of doing this sort of thing with a guy would set in. It hadn’t yet and that was surprising.

               Oswald pulled him down.

               “No, don’t you dare stop!” he replied ardently, kissing Jim again and running his hands over his broad shoulders. Jim chuckled into the kiss and pushed off Oswald’s shirt. He let his eyes roam over Oswald’s torso, taking in the bruises and scars. Oswald squirmed under his scrutiny.

               “Jim, please don’t stare,” he said, wrapping his arms around himself. “I don’t want you to be disgusted.”

               Jim shook his head and took hold of Oswald’s wrists, pushing his arms out of the way and pinning them to the pillows.

               “I’m not disgusted,” he assured.

               They kissed yet again, Oswald moaning softly against Jim’s lips. Jim moved down and Oswald couldn’t help the little wanton noises he let slip as Jim licked and nipped at his collarbones and chest. Jim let go of Oswald’s wrists in favor of caressing his sides and hips.

               Oswald’s slender fingers gripped the back of Jim’s short hair. He gasped as Jim teased a nipple with his tongue and teeth. Jim didn’t linger, however, and continued down Oswald’s body, pressing kisses to his stomach and hipbones.

               Jim managed to get rid of Oswald’s pants and underwear, causing Oswald to blush and look nervous again. Oswald was quickly distracted with an open-mouthed kiss which left him feeling somewhat dazed. He eagerly spread his legs, allowing Jim to settle between them. Jim ground his hips down against Oswald, who tipped his head back to moan loudly at the unfamiliar sensation. Jim struggled out of his own pants and underwear, trying to be as quick as possible so he could rut against Oswald properly.

               Oswald grasped at Jim’s back, keening as Jim bit down at the junction of his shoulder and neck – marking him clearly.

               “Jim! Please…” he panted desperately.

               Jim pulled back a bit to look at Oswald who twisted around to reach for the drawer of the bedside table. Oswald rummaged around for a moment before pulling out a bottle of lotion.

               “What do you want me to do with this?” Jim asked as Oswald handed him the lotion. Oswald bent his good leg up.

               “You have to prepare me. Otherwise…well, I’ve read it will hurt,” he explained. “I’d rather not be in pain if I can help it.”

               Jim’s lips thinned and he nodded. He squeezed some lotion onto his fingers and reached down to press them to Oswald’s entrance. Oswald gasped as the first finger pushed into him and he gripped the sheets.

               “You okay?” Jim asked, taking the gasp as a sign of pain. Oswald nodded. Jim pressed deeper and was rewarded with a mewl of pleasure from the smaller man. Jim gradually added a second finger, watching Oswald’s face to make sure he wasn’t causing the other pain.

               “AH!” Oswald cried out as Jim brushed his fingers against something deep within him.

               “Oswald?”

               “Again! Do that again, Jim!”

               Jim twisted his fingers inside him and Oswald’s back arched as he moaned loudly. Oswald reached up and pulled Jim down for a frantic kiss, which Jim was more than okay with. Oswald’s kiss quickly moved from his lips to Jim’s cheek, jaw, and then Jim groaned as Oswald nipped at his ear.

               Jim couldn’t wait any longer. He pulled his hand back, squeezed out more lotion, and slicked himself. As he lined himself up, he felt Oswald curl his good leg around his waist. Jim slowly began to push in, trying not to give into his desire to just thrust in all at once. Oswald was incredibly tight, even with preparation.

               Oswald let out a cry of pain and Jim froze.

               “Keep going,” Oswald gasped, clutching at Jim’s biceps. Jim nodded and continued to push in. Eventually he bottomed out and he had to take a moment or it all would have been over far too soon. Oswald was panting hard underneath him, eyes blown wide.

              Oswald had never felt anything quite like this before. As the pain faded it was swiftly replaced by pleasure and a strange sense of fullness. Jim’s hand settled on his bad leg, cradling it so that it was no longer feeling strained. Oswald cupped Jim’s face in his hands and leaned up to kiss him softly.

              Jim returned the kiss as he rolled his hips. Oswald moaned into his mouth and gripped at Jim’s hair. Jim nipped at Oswald’s bottom lip as he properly thrust into him. Oswald whined and arched against him, clearly enjoying everything Jim was doing to him.

              Oswald clung to Jim as though his life depended on it as Jim rocked into him. Jim rested his forehead against his as he picked up the pace of his thrusts.

              “Jim…Jim…AH! Jim…” was all Oswald could gasp out and Jim couldn’t help but plunge deeper into him in response. Jim realized he hit that sweet spot when Oswald’s voice disappeared and all he could do was writhe in bliss.

              A few more thrusts and Oswald came with a shout of Jim’s name. Jim reveled in the way Oswald came apart beneath him, because of him. However, his own orgasm was fast approaching due to the way Oswald clenched around him.

              Jim grit his teeth and a few thrusts later came with a grunt. Oswald responded with a sound halfway between a whimper and a moan. Jim pressed a few open mouthed kisses to Oswald’s neck and shoulders as he came down from his momentary high.

              After taking a few seconds to catch his breath, Jim pulled out. Oswald watched with heavily lidded eyes as Jim got off the bed and headed into the bathroom. When Jim returned he cleaned them both up before climbing into bed. Oswald let out a sigh of relief he hadn’t even been aware of holding.

              Jim spooned up behind Oswald so that he wasn’t laying on his bad leg, which Oswald was grateful for. Oswald placed a hand over Jim’s where it rested around his waist and looked over his shoulder at him.

              “That was…beyond words,” he murmured. Jim gave him a half smile.

              “Yeah…” he agreed. Oswald yawned then kissed Jim’s cheek.

              “Jim, I -” Jim cut him off with a kiss, and Oswald allowed it.

              Things didn’t need to be made more complicated than they already were. Jim felt more at peace than he had in a very long time, and the same could be said of Oswald. That was enough for the both of them. Peace was a rare feeling in Gotham, and neither Jim nor Oswald were willing to let that feeling go right yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, this fic has come to an end. 
> 
> But, this will hopefully not be the last you hear from me. If you want more fics by me that is...I have some ideas floating around here and there that might make it to paper, so-to-speak. 
> 
> The comments and kudos were/are much appreciated and definitely gave me the confidence to keep going with this. I hope everyone enjoyed the story. ^_^


End file.
